Turning your darkest ramblings into a creative bounty

"Screaming at the window
Watch me die another day
Hopeless situation
Endless price I have to pay
Sanity now it's beyond me
There's no choice
Diary of a madman
Walk the line again today
Entries of confusion
Dear diary, I'm here to stay"


-Ozzy Osbourne -"Diary of a Madman"

I love to write, I have a passion for it. Some people even say that I am good at it.


To be honest, I don't think I am a good writer or a subpar writer. I have my own style. I write like me. If you like it, awesome. If not, too bad! When you read someone's writings, do you want to read them or do you want to read someone copying another person? When you read me, you get me. Warts and all, imperfections and the whole lot, for better or worse. It's all me. If you are a grammar Nazi, you will not enjoy my writing, and that is OK with me.


For the better part of the last two years, I have been seeing an amazing therapist through a counseling center in Harrisburg.


"What's that?" you say, Why do I need to see a therapist? You have a damn good life: a great wife and daughter, a nice home, a band, great friends, a job...why do you need counseling? Someone like you should have no problems at all! Okay, stop right there.

My father, Anthony, was a man who had worked his ass off to provide a comfortable living for his family. By 1998, he was living the blue collar American dream. A nice home. 3 cars (one a Cadillac, one a Corvette, and his work truck), a boat, a '36 Ford hot rod, his own business that would pull in over 150 grand a year, respect from all of his peers and friends, and of course, his wife and his son. From the outside looking in, he's got it made, right? No need to be depressed, right?


Well, not exactly.


His son was rebelling against him and was tired of living under the roof of his parents. His wife was having an incognito affair with another woman. Expenses were mounting due to his business i.e. insurance, taxes, and paying his workers. On the outside, the blue collar American dream, but on the inside, storm clouds were forming. The one whom everyone depended on as a provider and a protector was starting to lose the people he provided and protected. As time went on, the storm clouds became a veritable tornado of depression. He would not win the fight against it.


I am my father's son. Many of the traits that caused him to spiral downward are in me simply because of genetics. I did not ask for them, nor do I want them. In fact, I'd like to throw them into the dumpster, but I can't as they are a part of me. You can't change your genetics. There is something you CAN change though...

...your thinking. The reason I go to therapy is because 1) I have a chance to let out all of my bad emotions in a safe environment 2) I can be shown a different way to approach certain issues, and 3) I am my father's son and I don't want to end up like him. The difference between Dad and myself is that I had the guts to get some help. I also love my family, friends, and life too much to lose them. Hence why I am trying to better myself.


I am also thankful that I have creative outlets, like writing and music. I have written lyrics for two of my band's songs, but both of them were about social issues and/or social commentary. That is great, but I wanted to try something different this time. Yes, we know, the world sucks. Yes, we know, the president is a fascist/communist dictator. Yes, we know, the price of Swiss cheese in Zurich is too high. Nothing wrong to write about any of those things and if you can make people rise up and get behind you, God bless you. Yet, writing about subjects that are personal, it takes a certain hubris, a certain bit of willingness to bare your soul to the world. Not everyone has that. Writing lyrics is not like writing a news story in the Daily Times or a journal or a blog like this one. It is an entirely different type of writing, altogether. Honestly, I think I suck at it, but I keep trying.

Thankfully, perusing my "gripe journal" that I take to therapy sessions shows that inspiration for personal lyrics with feeling are not in short supply. Thoughts get pretty dark on there, so dark I dare not share them here, but maybe in lyric form they can show the struggle a man has within himself and maybe they can help someone get through those tough moments. We all go through a personal tug of war inside and anyone who says they don't is either a liar or lobotomized. We are constantly locked in mortal combat with our dark sides. The lyrics I just wrote deal with that subject.


I hope I can get more of my own personal darkness and emotions out in lyric form in the future. The ramblings and writings from my diary of a madman could end up doing some good, by hopefully inspiring others to step out of the shadows and seek the light of therapy or other forms of professional help. It saved me. It could have saved Dad if he gave it the chance. It might even help save you. There is no shame in seeking professional therapy.